Tuesdays
by Wild Dragon's breath
Summary: Based on the prompt "It's Tuesday, I like you." and the sentence "Tuesday is clearly the night of the week that Spain's restaurant has cheap booze and the chef makes a show." For Cookie, who is ridiculous.  A restaurant AU of sorts. Spamano.


Still have no excuse for not updating Summons of a Master. Also, this is for my ridiculous friend Cookie, and based on a prompt in the Hetalia Kink meme... expanded a little bit.

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><p>Antonio owned a small restaurant in the east end of town. Not too big, not too small, and just popular enough for him to get by, most of the time. Thursdays were quiet nights, his favorites because he got to chat with regular customers, and sometimes relax with a nice glass of Spanish wine. Fridays were busy, loud music blaring and the small area that was cleared of tables jam packed with people writhing and twisting against each other. Saturdays were a comfortable affair, worn jeans and a ripped t-shirt with old runners to serve elderly customers and young couples that came to visit. Warm churros and paella, familiar and delicious. Sundays were rest days, going to the local church and praying, becoming a part of something Holy and Good and larger than life. Time to spend with family. Mondays were busy, but normal, prepare, clean, open, clean, cook, serve, clean, cook serve, clean, an endless cycle repeating over and over again.<p>

His favorite days though were Tuesdays. There wasn't anything particularly special about Tuesdays, at least not in any sort of extraordinary way. He opened the restaurant as usual, set the tables and cleaned, then wrote the special of the day on the white board by the cash register. Tables clean, check. Food prepped and ready to go, check. The jingle of the bell and the day had begun, first customers filing in and being seated by his waiters, ordering coffee or hot cocoa to start off their day.

No, the best thing about Tuesdays was not the events, or even the cheap liquor. On every Tuesday, without fail, a certain messy brown haired man would come in at around 6:30pm and sit down in a corner, scowling at the world as though it had done something to him personally. There was nothing particularly amazing about this customer; in fact, as people went he was fairly average. He neither stood out, nor faded completely into the background.

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><p>Antonio came out at exactly 7pm, starting the featured entertainment of the evening. First, knife juggling. The crowd always oooh'd and aaah'd, being drawn in by the display of skill. In the corner, the messy brown haired man sat, seeming singularly unimpressed, and Antonio smiled at him cheerfully before moving on to the next act, dance. A favorite act of his, as he got to dance with various people and get to know some of his customers better. Pulling his assistant chef out of the kitchen, he grinned as she put up a token protest, pulling her more firmly in against him as the first beat of the passionate salsa rang through the restaurant.<p>

He thought he might have seen the brown haired man lean forward a bit, his expression souring, but then he was lost in the whirling, twisting steps of the salsa, leading his lady throughout the small performance area as he'd done so many times before, whirling and spinning faster and faster as the music crescendoed to finally land in a deep dip as the music faded away. He grinned then, letting go of the assistant chef as she shook her fist at him playfully and headed back into the kitchen.

He pulled a woman up from her seat, smiling charmingly as a slower salsa came on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brown haired man's mouth twist downward, and made eye contact briefly before turning back to his chosen partner, beginning to teach her the steps.

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><p>As the night wore on, more people moved out onto the floor and Antonio stepped off, perching for a moment on the edge of a table and grabbing a glass of water. The brown haired man got up, walking slowly towards him.<p>

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Antonio's eyes were closed as he tilted his head back, chugging the last of the water.

"You seemed to be having fun out there."

"I was."

"I see."

Antonio turned to look then, as an unfamiliar emotion coloured the other man's tone, "You're upset."

"No, I'm not."

"You are," He stepped towards the other man, and then glanced around, "Come."

The brown haired man scowled, but followed him through the swinging doors and into the kitchen... Antonio frowned at the racket and grabbed the other man's hand, pulling him into a storage room where they were unlikely to be disturbed.

"Why are you upset?"

"I already told you, I'm not."

"Your tone says otherwise."

Green bore into brown harshly, each stubborn in their own way.

The brown haired man suddenly gave an explosive sigh, turning away in defeat.

"Why do you even want to know?"

"Because I worry."

"I don't know why you bother."

A pause and Antonio reaches over to touch the other man's shoulder lightly.

"I worry because I care Lovino, you should know that by now."

"Bastard." The insult had little bite in it, and Antonio took no offense, used to the other man's moods.

"If you think I'd cheat on you, then you're very wrong."

"It's not that… It's really nothing; you don't need to worry about it, bastard."

"If it's you, I will anyway."

Lovino took a step away, crossing an arm over his chest.

"Please Lovi, just tell me. I'll fix it."

"You can't, it's not even your fault." Shoulders hunched slightly, Lovino refused to look up, avoiding those green eyes determinedly.

"I'll try anyway." Antonio pulled up the other man's chin gently, eyes searching, "Querido, please."

"I just… You look so happy out there, dancing and flirting and I… well… never mind its no-"

"Lovino Vargas, tell me." His tone was commanding, and Lovino flinched slightly.

"I just… I can't give you any of what they can."

Green eyes narrowed slightly, confusion clear to read on the Spanish restaurant owner's face, "What do you mean?"

"I- well- you- …I can't dance with you on Tuesdays, or flirt with you, or even say nice things to you every once in awhile, and you don't deserve to be stuck with someone like me." Watery eyes focused determinedly on a shelf to the left of Antonio's head.

Warmth and understanding unfolded in Antonio's green eyes as he gently pulled the smaller man into his arms, smoothing down brown hair gently as he murmured softly into the other man's ear.

"Querido, you don't have to do that for me, I don't mind. I just need to know that you're there sometimes, that you maybe might like me even a little bit. So long as I have that I would never ask anything from you that I knew you didn't want to give. Mi corazon, I love you and you don't need to tell me that back for me to know that whatever you say means I love you too, even if it sounds different."

"Antonio-"

"And I know that maybe sometimes I'm too touchy with you, and that maybe I should listen to you more when you tell me to stop, and that maybe you really do mean it when you say I'm an idiot, but-"

"_Antonio_."

Surprised to find his lover turned around in his arms, Antonio stopped murmuring, paying attention to what the smaller man was trying to say.

"I-… You're an asshole." _I love you_, "When are you working until?" _Please come home with me_.

"I'm free now. The staff can handle closing up on their own for one night."

"Lazy bastard," Wiping a stray tear out of the corner of his eye, Lovino poked the other man in the chest.

"What can I say? Being my own boss has its perks sometimes." Antonio grinned and kissed the corner of the brown haired man's eye.

"Whatever." _Thank you_.


End file.
